


A Night Out

by My_Good_Omens_Hackverse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley are very drunk, Aziraphale doesn’t know how cars work, Aziraphale gets a little touchy feely, M/M, silly fluff, the Bentley is smarter than both of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Good_Omens_Hackverse/pseuds/My_Good_Omens_Hackverse
Summary: Will Aziraphale get to drive home? Not if The Bentley has anything to say about it.
Relationships: Aziraphale & The Bentley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), The Bentley & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	A Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> Super fluffy and pointless 😊 Thanks for reading!

All this was Aziraphale’s fault. “Let’s go out, Crowley,” he’d said, his miraculous eyes full of mischievous light. “Come on, we always stay in – let’s live a little!”

Crowley had pulled a face. First of all, Aziraphale was telling _him_ , a demon, to ‘live a little,’ which was laughable, obviously. Secondly, staying in was simply better \- Aziraphale had better wine, a cozy couch, and there were no humans to have to act human in front of. In the back room of the bookshop they could do whatever they wanted. Not that Crowley ever had. Done whatever he wanted. With Aziraphale. What mattered was that he _could_ , if he wanted to. One day, soon (probably) he definitely would. 

But not today, apparently.  Instead of being offended at Crowley’s reaction,  Aziraphale  had  playfully punched Crowley’s arm and laughed – that laugh that always made Crowley’s  knees  weak  \-  and  like magic,  Aziraphale got his way. Big surprise, that. If Crowley had ever  successfully  told his angel ‘no’ he couldn’t remember when that might have been. He’s sure it had to have happened  at least once or twice over the last 6000 years. But that’s not the point.

The point is that they had gone out and managed to become even less sensible than was normal even for them. They were so drunk they forgot that sobering themselves up was an option. They stood outside the small pub they had victimized (for some reason it had stayed open hours past closing and things had gotten very disorderly), and swayed slightly. Aziraphale threw an awkward arm over Crowley’s shoulders to keep himself upright and nearly sent the two of them sprawling. As it was they ended up in a messy side hug, Aziraphale’s face an inch from Crowley’s.

“I’ll drive, shall I?”  That’s not what it sounded like, but that’s what Aziraphale meant to say.  Without waiting for an answer he lurched toward the car, dissolving into snorts and giggles as he collided in  a most un-gallant way with the  Bentley. “ Ooof. Oh…!  My… apologies, madam, I… I do  begyourpardon .” Aziraphale started to bow awkwardly, and then couldn’t quite work out how to do that as the earth had shifted  unexpectedly to the left. “Allow me,” he announced loudly to the empty car park, and proceeded to wrestle  earnestly and  clumsily  with the door.

Crowley, meanwhile, was having a hard time remembering if he had forgotten that Aziraphale knew how to drive. And then he forgot what he was trying to remember. He shrugged – probably wasn’t important – and shuffled carefully toward the car. As Aziraphale continued to struggle with the car door, Crowley wondered fuzzily if it was possible for a drunk snake to trip and fall. He finally made it to the passenger door and collapsed into the seat. Ever the helpful demon (at least where Aziraphale was concerned), he opened the driver’s door from the inside. He had to reach out and catch a surprised Aziraphale who hadn’t expected the door to open at that moment. Crowley pulled him into the car with a little more energy than was necessary and swung Aziraphale like a bundle of tartan laundry into the seat next to him. Aziraphale reached for the dashboard to steady himself but missed, and insteadfell face first into Crowley’s lap. Crowley blinked at the back of Aziraphale’s head. He swallowed. He had had fantasies that looked a lot like this, but none of them involved quite so much bumbling and falling.

“Angel,” he croaked,  and rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming? What the  deuce was going on?

Aziraphale raised his head an inch. “The confounded latch was stuck,” he mumbled peevishly. “Why am I talking to your pants?” He sat up. “Crowley, you’re shaking like a leaf, are you having some kind of a fit?”

Crowley was in no state to answer, of course, and so Aziraphale looked around with a faint scowl and pursed lips having forgotten where he was. Oh, yes, the Bentley. “Be a fellow, my dear sport, and,” he belched forcefully, “jolly good, there’s a chap.”

Aziraphale was familiar with the basic appearance of cars. Broadly. He had ridden in them. Not quite as straight forward has a horse drawn carriage, but really how hard could it be? One steered a car with the large round thing, and then one arrived at one’s destination. There might be a little more to it, but if humans could do it, then surely he could. He peered at all the dials and switches but they meant nothing to him. To be fair, they wouldn’t have even if he was sober. Which he wasn’t. Was not. “I am not sober,” he told the Bentley. Ok, back to driving. Why weren’t they moving? Wasn’t there something he was meant to grab onto and jiggle? A stick with a knob on it? Yes, it must be around here somewhere… He put one hand on the wheel and groped blindly to his left with his other hand. Crowley flattened himself against the door, trying to get away, but not before Aziraphale found Crowley’s belt buckle, and then slid down, feeling around for…

“Angel!”

By this time Crowley was most definitely sober \- being felt up by an angel (twice) who he had silently loved for over 6000 years will do that. He staggered out of the car, gasping, growling, pacing, and trying not to scream. He leaned against the car and laid his forehead on the roof, the cool metal a relief. He had never puked before – one of the many advantages of not having a digestive system – but his insides twisted and surged nonetheless, threatening to send up whatever unholy-ness that was scorching his gut. And if that wasn’t enough, he found he was very close to sobbing. Like riding a roller coaster for hours despite begging to be let off. Aziraphale, in his drunken state, couldn’t know what his accidental passes were doing to Crowley, but damn him, it was still his fault for insisting on going out – this would never have happened at the bookshop. Of all the things Crowley wanted to do to Aziraphale right now, making him pay for carelessly toying with him was near the top of the list.

“Crowley, are such dramatics really necessary?” asked Aziraphale distractedly. Crowley bent down to scowl at Aziraphale, who didn’t notice. He had become fascinated by one of the gauges. He turned to Crowley, trying mightily to focus. “I mean, I wouldn’t be at all put out if you wanted to drive. If it’s that important to you.”

Crowley smiled a little as he climbed back into his seat. “No, no, angel, I insist. Have at it. She’s all yours. I’ll just sit back and enjoy the ride, shall I?” Crowley winked and grinned. He was prepared to watch Aziraphale squirm all night behind the wheel. They could drive home at 2 miles per hour if that’s what it took, but Crowley was not driving. This whole thing was Aziraphale’s idea and he’d be blessed if he was going to let him off the hook.

Aziraphale shot him a pained look,which would normally have melted Crowley’s resolve, but Crowley refused to be baited. “Right,” said Aziraphale, suddenly much less drunk himself. “Be a dear and turn t he car on, would you?”

Crowley obligingly snapped his fingers.

The car was silent.

Crowley  sat up and  snapped his fingers  more insistently. Nothing.  He scrambled  out of the lifeless car and around to the hood.

Aziraphale leaned out his window.  “Crowley, did I break it?” Under normal circumstances, Crowley would have teased Aziraphale to within an inch of his life, assuring him that, yes, whatever was wrong with the car was absolutely his fault. But sheer panic has a way of chasing all humor out of a situation like this one.

Crowley threw open the hood before remembering that anything resembling an engine was long gone. Aziraphale stood next to him and together they looked into the engine compartment, which was empty except for a picnic basket and a jacket from a pest control company. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m no automobile mechanic, but I think I see the problem,” he said. “Perhaps we should call a cab?”

“Never,” growled Crowley. He and the Bentley had an understanding. It had ceased to be a ‘car’ as such a long time ago. Instead of gas it ran on strength of will, the thrill of playing a game they called ‘dodge the pedestrian,’ and maybe the odd threat now and again from Crowley (although it rarely came to that). They had had their disagreements but in the end, unless in the process of actively exploding, the car started. Every time. And it would start now.

He closed the hood.  Calmly. Snapped his fingers.  Sternly.  The car started, maybe just a little grudgingly.  “Right,”  breathed Crowley, fixing the car with that ‘don’t test me’ look mothers  had  invented (and that Aziraphale quite wished he had  used on Adam and Eve so long ago).

“ Crowley,  maybe all things considered, you might feel better if you drove … ? ”

“ Well….” Crowley pretended to think about it. “No, you go ahead,  angel,  tame the beast! Drive it like you stole it! Take her in a firm hand and show ‘ er who’s boss.”

Aziraphale had never actually seen hellfire, but he was fairly sure that it somehow resembled the predatory grin lighting up Crowley’s face. Crowley sauntered slowly to the passenger side and eased himself into the seat. He leered at Aziraphale sliding in reluctantly next to him.

No sooner had Aziraphale’s rear end settled into the soft leather, than the car shut off. “Oh,” he said. He turned to Crowley, eyebrows raised innocently, and gave a disappointed little pout, “what an awful shame.”

Crowley tipped his head back and sighed . “Angel, I’m going to drive us home now.”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, allowing himself to sound a little smug , “I think all of us would like that very much.”


End file.
